


"Welcome Home, Cas."

by wordsandtea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x23, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Destiel - Freeform, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsandtea/pseuds/wordsandtea
Summary: A short, a little bit angsty, definitely fluffy reunion between Dean and Castiel after the events of 12x23.





	"Welcome Home, Cas."

“Cas,” he whispered, and he was able to hear the blood rushing through the veins in his ears. Shim-mering lights were dancing at the corners of his vision. His skin felt both burning hot and ice cold at the same time, the way he imagined it would feel if you dove into a pool while someone branded you with a burning claw – the way that left scars.

His breath shuddered painfully inside his lungs as he stumbled a few steps forwards, just to stop again to hold onto a chair. He could feel the wooden edges cut into his skin and his knuckles were trembling underneath white skin. But he didn’t dare to let go yet.

“Sa– Sammy,” he called, his voice more husky than he had though – or hoped – it would be. He was barely able to hear the rustling from the kitchen when Sam walked over, leaning into the door frame.  
“Dean, what’s going on– oh.” Sam froze right where he was standing when he finally realized.

It was nobody but Cas who had knocked his brother out, of course it was him – nobody else had been able to attract any reaction at all from Dean anymore. Not even Sam himself. And he understood why, and it was okay, because Sam knew what it was like to see the person you love die.

It was Cas.

“You seein’ him too?” Dean forcibly spit the words out.

He hadn’t told Sam about the hallucinations. He hadn’t told him when Cas had rejected him in purgatory, and he hadn’t told him now, either. He was too weak like that. Too vulnerable. It was probably the most vulnerable he had ever been. All because of some shabby broken angel in a dirty trenchcoat, and it petrified him to finally become aware of the impact that the angel had on him.

“Dean, what–“ Sam’s voice sounded confused, and Dean had no time for explanations. Or the breath for answers. His heart hurt more with every shaky breath he took.

“Just answer!” Dean snapped. His voice pierced through the night like a cork exploding out of a bottle of red wine, like a knife finding its deathly course. 

His hands were shaking just as much as his legs did, and Dean wondered if they might fail him just like the night Cas had been taken from him.  
A sob started to crawl up his throat, a sob he hadn’t let out ever since that excruciating night. He had thought if he didn’t cry, maybe it would get easier for him to get over it.  
It hadn’t gotten easier.

“I see him,” Sam answered finally, but he didn’t turn his gaze from Dean, his brows drawn together in a concerned line.

“Dean, I’m here.” Cas eventually, finally looked up at him, and an uncontrolled sob escaped Dean’s lips, and the dam broke.

“Dean, it might be a trick–“ Sam started, but his voice was nothing but a blur within Dean’s ears. 

Cas was here. His Cas. His Cas had finally come home. He didn’t care whether it was a trick or not. It was Cas, and nothing else mattered.

By the time Sam had finished his sentence, Dean had already stumbled halfway over to Cas.

He was wearing a normal pair of Jeans and a black Led Zeppelin hoodie, which wasn’t really a sur-prise. They had buried him in his suit, and Cas probably got changed right after he’d made his way out.  
Dean knew that in the forest behind the bunker, he would eventually find a six feet deep hole hiding an empty coffin surrounded by dried out brown leaves. 

The leaves covered almost everything these days, but there would be a small space they didn’t. A small space where Dean had put new clothes and lit a small candle every Sunday morning, never really giving up on the only hope he had left, even if it meant saying so long to sanity and slipping into a dull world of nothing.

Dean also kept a new suit and a blue tie, tied the wrong way, and even new shoes in Cas’ old room within the bunker. The trenchcoat, however, he kept inside his own room. He didn’t managed to bury it together with his angel, because it was the last thing he had left of him, the familiar scent never failing to remind Dean of times they were together and times they were happy.

He knew that Sam knew, and he also knew Sam thought he was driving insane, which he probably was, but it never mattered to Dean. Not that anything would matter to Dean these days. But Cas ending like that – that had not been meant to be. Cas was by his side. He was by Cas’ side. Everything else was weird, unnatural. Maybe even unthinkable. It definitely was unbelievable for Dean.

He didn’t even care how Cas came back, what took him so long, if he had been back around for long. Who gave a fuck why Cas was here? Cas was here. That was the only thing that mattered, and the only thing that made sense to him.

His heart was pumping blood through his veins he didn’t need, because he didn’t need to run, not this time. He would be able to stop running away now. And he wouldn’t let Cas run away another time, either.

Dean heard Sam saying something, but he didn’t process it, he didn’t even care.

And then he finally collapsed within Cas’ embrace. 

Dean cried out his name without the slightest glimpse of embarrassment as he gripped the hoodie and held on tight on him.

“Dean,” Cas answered quietly with that deep angel voice Dean had missed too much, and it sent shudders down his spine.

“I prayed to you,” Dean started in between two sobs, breathless as he buried his tear-wet face in Cas’ shoulder. And it hurt, oh god, it hurt so much. The familiar scent of Castiel made him want to scream in pain.

“I’m sorry.” Cas’ hands wandered over his hips, back, neck, and finally found their way into Dean’s dirty blonde hair, while Dean still held on to that hoodie as if he was about to drown and burn at the same time.

“You’re a feathered asshole.” Dean’s voice was gentle and vulnerable, but it still managed to impart everything he couldn’t say.

Castiel remained silent for a long time. When he finally parted his lips, his voice vibrated like the colored wings of a hummingbird. “I missed you too, Dean.”

Dean looked at him as he struggled for words and air. “You’ve got a hell lot to explain as to how you came back,” he eventually attempted, “but that’s for later.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered reassuringly but demanding, as if he knew what Dean was going to say. Just a hushed smile flattered the corners of his lips, causing wrinkles to appear next to his vibrant blue eyes.

He remembered how cold his lips had felt that night when his fingers had brushed over them ever so lightly, so cold and pale and lifeless, like a ghost had already covered them in snow. But they were as full as always now, tinted in a soft rosy color and formed with a flawless cupid line.  
It was impossible for him to count out how much time he had spent looking at Cas’ lips by now, not only in this very moment but ever since they first had met, and he had never really quite understood what it had meant.

But he understood it now.

And sparks flew when their lips met.

Not like the first time he had seen Cas, not in a literal way. There were no lamps exploding whatso-ever, no thunder, shattering wooden roof.  
But it felt like something within his heart sparked back to life, and the sorrow about everything was slowly being burnt away by a small sun radiating inside of him in all its bright and blinding glory.

Cas held his neck and gripped his hair on just the right narrow blade between passion and pain, and his lips were softer than he’d ever imagined, and by god, he tasted so much like Cas.

From far, far away, he heard Sam mumble something before footsteps disappeared even further away. It didn’t matter to Dean. And it sure as hell didn’t matter to Cas, either. Nothing else mattered now that they were finally brace enough to embrace just how much they actually mattered to one another. 

It was the kiss he’d been dreaming about and dreading for years, for pouring and excruciating and tiring years, and time seemed to stop as Castiel pressed his lips against him like they belonged to-gether, like they were made to melt into each other like ice into a puddle on a hot summer’s day under the beautiful sun of Kansas. 

It was the kiss of the kind that made your heart beat fast enough to make you think you might die, and it felt as painful as it felt compellingly stunning and it took Dean’s breath yet before he closed his eyes.

When their lips parted just a few centimeters and he stared into Cas’ bright blue diamond eyes in struggle to find the right words yet again, Cas stared right back into his soul, all his sins and dreams and wishes unfolded upon him.

And he simply did not need many words to express everything else.

Just three words, three tiny little words and he would be able to rest in a feathered embrace.

Just three words and Cas’ eyes would tear up, unable to bear with all those feelings.

Just three words.

Dean looked at the angel who once saved him again and again until there had been nothing left of his wings but broken feathers and shattered dreams, and he smiled because he knew he would be able to save him just this once.

Three words.

“Welcome home, Cas.”


End file.
